


all fall down

by symmetrophobic



Series: spy!au [3]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, spy!fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-31 20:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6486709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symmetrophobic/pseuds/symmetrophobic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it's an occupational hazard on paper and in theory- death, that is. and regardless of how hard any of them try to make it otherwise, jyp academy's seventh unit is going to keep it that way. got7 agent!au.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> the overly dramatic, much angstier and more ridiculous sequel (??) to freefall! it seems i can't be satisfied with the happy snarky mode of ficdom and simply have to venture into spy kdrama style narratives, so i apologise way in advance if (and when) anyone scoffs upon reading something dumb af in this fic, because trust me, it's gonna come. and speaking of coming, this is genfic. but also pairings. please understand my heart. thank you all and peace out. /sweeps cape /trips over cape /cries 
> 
> (please blame desole for this and while you're at it, rail at her to update her shifter au. thank you for your great service to us all.)

Corporate espionage.

That was supposed to be it. It was a low job, even for newbies like them. So no one thinks much of it when Jackson’s assigned to go solo, backed up only by Youngjae through radio, because no one can mess up _corporate espionage_ , especially not _Jackson_ , right?

That’s what everyone thinks, that is, until Youngjae loses contact with Jackson three days in.

There’s a protocol they follow- twenty-four hours of radio silence, during which the agent is supposed to find another way to report in, then they send a Retrieval team to investigate if they can’t be tracked down.

Everything seems all good and right again when Jackson arrives back at HQ barely more than a day later, but something’s wrong- something the rest of Unit 7 have to fix. And this time, they aren’t pressed for time because of the blinking red countdown on their Academy watches anymore.

They have just about 72 hours.

72 hours before Jackson dies.


	2. 001.

“Have you gotten anything yet?”

Youngjae squeezes his eyes shut and takes a breath- it’s the tenth time someone’s asked him that this morning, and he swears, if another person opens their mouth to ask it again, he’s going to explode.

“No,” he grits out without turning around, and two pairs of feet shuffle awkwardly in the spacious room quietly. “I told Jaebum-hyung this morning that I’d make it a _point_ to inform everyone the _moment_ Jackson contacts us, so if you’d just leave for the time being and _let me do my work-…_ ”

“Okay, okay,” Bambam mutters, and Youngjae lets out a breath as he and Yugyeom exit the room. He’s spent the last nine hours scouring the entire of Seoul by satellite (because they’re stuck in the Daegu base and can’t possibly do the stronger localised sweeps, can they), doing everything he possibly can to find Jackson, from facial recognition checks in the area around the complex he’d been assigned to infiltrate, to hacking into CCTVs in the surrounding office buildings to scan for sightings of the older man (hell of a piece of work on a Friday morning), but to no avail. His head is aching with the bright glare of the monitor, and his stomach rumbles from the lack of solid food for the past twelve hours other than the sandwich Jinyoung had dropped by with some time ago, despite the fact that he’s been doing this almost all his life.

The foil and plastic in Youngjae’s hands crinkle invasively as he pops another capsule out and tosses it into his mouth absently, washing it down with cold black oversweet coffee. For a moment again he wishes he’d found a way around removing the signal trace on Jackson’s physical body so he’d be able to track his presence there without a hitch, but the superior technology in the laboratories had raised suspicions that they’d be able to detect the signature just as easily as Youngjae could follow it, so that had to go. While they could be assured about Jackson being untraceable, though, this meant that Youngjae was going in blind, except for the constant feed of noise through his earpiece, that’d very abruptly (and noticeably) stopped about eleven hours ago.

The door opens for the eleventh time in three hours, and Youngjae whips around, eyes narrowed, ready to snarl out an _I haven’t heard anything so get lost before I castrate you_ , but then Jaebum steps in, and the tech specialist recedes grumpily into his comfortable swivel chair.

“I assume you haven’t gotten anything from Jackson,” Jaebum observes pensively, wrinkling his nose at the mess of candy bar wrappers, stained coffee mugs and the plate with the crumbs of the sandwich Jinyoung had brought earlier. Predictably, he starts compulsively sweeping the rubbish together with a tissue and tossing it into the bin under the table, despite the situation at hand.

“No,” Youngjae rubs at his eyes tiredly, slumped in his chair. “I’ve tried _everything_ , hyung, facial recognition, surveillance, I even contacted Yerin in the Seoul base to ask if Jackson had tried to make contact- there’s nothing. It’s like he’s _trying_ not to be found.”

“Maybe that’s it,” Jaebum shrugs, resting a hand on Youngjae’s shoulder. “Maybe he thinks they were listening in to your conversation, or that he’d been detected.”

“Well then he should’ve _said_ something, or alerted us, right?” Youngjae snaps, drawing his legs up on the chair, studying the satellite maps moodily.

“You know him, he probably just forgot,” Jaebum doesn’t sound entirely convinced, and that’s the reason Youngjae chooses to shut up for the next few minutes, eyes properly closed for the first time in what feels like days, head buzzing from the caffeine and meds.

"It was just supposed to be a dumb espionage mission," the tech specialist mumbles drowsily. "Get in, set the bugs, give us access to the important files, get out. He's done this loads of times- how could anything have gone wrong?"

"Nothing's ever supposed to go wrong, Jae, but things don't always work out that way," Jaebum reminds him, still squinting at the wide screen, trying to make things out.

Youngjae’s trying to relax by running through the different possibilities in his head, calculating the probabilities of each action and comparing each statistic to come up with the most probable sequence of events, when Jaebum’s voice brings him back down to Earth, hand urgently shaking his shoulder.

“…that red light, over there, what does it mean?”

Youngjae blinks back into focus, suddenly fully alert, scrambling to quickly blow up the tiny blip on the radar and pull up live images, and his eyes widen.

“That’s our proximity tracker- it only works within a ten kilometer radius but it tracks _everyone_ ,” he pushes a couple of wrappers aside in his impatience, quickly analysing the data. “Oh -…it’s _Jackson_ , hyung, he’s in Daegu, he’s _here_ -…”

“Lock his location on our trackers, Mark and I are heading out to get him,” Jaebum’s already turning away, firing away commands into their radio, but Youngjae’s eyes are slightly hazed with confusion, making sense of the data he’s been able to detect.

“Hyung, I think you need to bring Jinyoung-hyung,” Youngjae trails off a little uncertainly, and Jaebum looks up at the plasma screen, fingers temporarily frozen. Jackson’s physical stats are there, courtesy of the black ion band around his wrist doubling up as a health tracker, all little bars and numbers and conditions Jaebum barely understands. "And bring the health kit...something's not right."

He’s never been very fond of the figures Youngjae always seems to manipulate so easily, but even he can tell there shouldn't be _that_ much red flaring on the horizontal bars that Youngjae’s brought up.

“Mark,” he says tersely into the radio, then, not surprised when the other man responds immediately, as though he’d been waiting for the call.

“ _Yeah? Did you find him?”_

“Mark, get Jinyoung, bring the first-aid equipment, meet me at the unloading zone,” Jaebum says, heading out the door. “I’ll be driving the van.”

“ _Where is he?_ ”

“He’s on foot, hyung, about eight kilometers out from here. His physical stats don’t look too good,” Youngjae’s tuned in now, narrating the information quickly, and Jaebum hooks the earpiece into his ear as he leaves the room, heading for the carpark. “Should we inform the rest?”

“Quickly,” Jaebum says tensely, taking towards the elevator at a run. “Tell them to stay in contact. We’ll keep you posted.”

*

“Around that corner, then straight. He’s about two streets down,” Jinyoung says, looking anxiously out the windshield, feeling Mark do the same over his shoulder as Jaebum turns the van.

He honestly doesn’t know what to expect- Youngjae hadn’t said much before they left, only that Jackson might be injured and in need of immediate medical assistance. For a moment, he lets his mind wander, trying to make sense of what’s happened the past few days. It didn’t click, why Jackson would _deliberately_ avoid making contact, though Jinyoung understands why he’d tried to avoid detection near the complex- that was in case the company managed to trace the espionage back to JYP.

Fear pools at the pit of his stomach at the thought of what they might find two streets down, the stark contrast of everything that’s gone wrong so far against the disturbing normalcy of seeing Jackson again, _on foot_ , for crying out loud. He hadn’t even managed to hotwire a car? Jackson hated unnecessary exertion, so why would he be _walking_ , in the middle of the day, at that?

“There,” Mark points, voice betraying only the slightest hint of anxiety, and Jinyoung strains to see until he catches sight of the figure trudging along the pavement under the beating sun, eyes on the asphalt.

“Stop the van first,” Jinyoung urges, and Jaebum obliges immediately, but Mark’s already gotten out the back, regaining his balance perfectly when he hits the ground running.

Jinyoung pushes the door open, heart weighed down with anxiety as he runs after Mark. The eldest is already ahead, catching up to Jackson’s meandering figure easily.

He’s expecting a noise of surprise, a laugh, _anything_ , when Mark catches Jackson’s shoulder, going round to his front to cut him off, but Jackson barely seems to move.

“Jackson, where _were_ you? Why didn’t you try to get in contact?” Jinyoung demands, but he catches the frozen look of anxiety and worry on Mark’s face, and right then and there, his stomach sinks.

“Jackson, what’s wrong,” Mark doesn’t phrase it like a question, fingers wound tight into the material of Jackson’s shirt at his shoulders, like he’s the only thing keeping Jackson standing, and when Jinyoung rounds Mark to get a better look at Jackson’s face, he thinks he understands why.

Jackson isn’t even looking at either of them, eyes unfocused and heavily lidded, jaw slack, his face completely blank of emotion. There’s a thin sheen of perspiration on his brow, and despite the fact that they’re in the late afternoon sun, they’ve been trained in harsher weathers than _this_ , and a slight temperature shouldn’t be enough to make Jackson break out in a sweat. He seems intent on continuing his walk down the road, barely aware that Mark’s there holding him in place.

“How’s he?” Jaebum’s gesturing impatiently, eyes sweeping across the perimeter anxiously, always thinking ahead. “Come on, let’s get into the van and we can give him a proper check-up.”

“Hyung,” Jinyoung says uncertainly, waving a hand in front of Jackson’s face, feeling his chest tighten when Jackson barely responds. “Hyung, something’s wrong with Jackson-…we don’t know what’s wrong.”

“ _Jackson_ ,” Mark shakes the other man once, emotion causing his voice to slip ever so slightly, eyes desperately searching Jackson’s gaze. “Come _on_ , man, snap out of it. _Jackson!_ ”

Jackson finally blinks, once, twice, before shifting his gaze with what seems to be like a tremendous amount of effort, brow creasing slightly when his eyes lock onto Mark’s, like he’s just realised something.

“Jackson?” Mark repeats, more uncertainly this time, as Jaebum finally approaches properly, frowning.

“Can we just get into the-…” are all the words Jaebum manages to get out, then, before Jackson’s legs seem to give out under him like all the strength’s left them at once, and Jaebum’s forced to lurch forward and support him from behind.

“What the _hell_ happened?” Jaebum hisses, looking to Mark for explanation, but for once the silence on the eldest member’s part seems to be unintentional, his eyes wide with a certain empty sort of terror, hands trembling even in their grip on Jackson’s shirt.

“We need to get him back,” Jinyoung says, half breathless, breaking into a run towards the van. “I need to get him on a drip and check him properly.”

“Mark, radio back, tell them to meet us at the med bay,” Jaebum orders, starting to half-drag, half-carry Jackson to the back of the van. “Jinyoung, stabilise Jackson when we’re in the van. We’re going to figure out what happened.”

*

Jaebum notes, with some degree of appreciation, that the maknaes have pressed themselves, by sheer force of self-control, against the wall, staying out of the way as Jaebum and Mark carry Jackson in, Jinyoung grabbing a mobile med cart and picking up several bottles from the cabinet in the wall as he walks in, snapping on a pair of sterile gloves as he does so.

They manage to stay there for a grand total of about three seconds, before Bambam darts over, eyes wide and worried, parking himself on Jackson’s other side as Jaebum and Mark lay him down on one of the beds, quickly moving out of the way for Jinyoung to start working.

“I called the medics like you asked, hyung, the specialist will be down soon,” Yugyeom says, watching Jackson nervously over Mark’s shoulder, and Jaebum acknowledges with a tight word of thanks. It’s another downside to not being part of the main base in Seoul- the Daegu base is ridiculously understaffed and years behind the main headquarters (or even the Busan one, for that matter) in terms of technology. “Is Jackson…is he?”

“Move,” Jinyoung says tersely, and Bambam stumbles aside quickly as Jinyoung hooks up the IV bag. “Jackson’s stable for now, I just don’t know how long more. He’s dehydrated, though, and showing signs of exhaustion, but I don’t think that’s the reason why he’s like this.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Youngjae seems uncomfortable, standing at the foot of Jackson’s bed with his iPad, like he’s wondering what he can do to help. They’d all been trained on the basics of healthcare, sure, but Youngjae preferred machines to flesh and blood by a large extent. “How do you know?”

“I gave him a basic check-up when we were in the van,” Jaebum tunes back into what Jinyoung’s saying, the other man looking like he’s barely paying attention to what he’s saying, focused instead on extracting the liquid from a tiny plastic bottle using a syringe. “I wasn’t able to pinpoint exactly what was causing his condition, but I’m pretty sure it has something,” he pauses for a moment to give Jackson the shot, before setting the syringe down on the med cart, grabbing a pair of scissors instead. “To do with this,” and he grabs the edge of Jackson’s shirt, cutting side upwards in a few clean, concise snips, before peeling away the fabric to reveal-…

“He got hurt,” Bambam sounds a little like he’s in disbelief.

There’s a bandage there, done rather messily, probably by Jackson himself, wrapped around his right shoulder tightly, to stop the bleeding.

“I didn’t want to mess with it in case I found something I didn’t have the equipment to deal with in the van,” Jinyoung explains, gently removing the clip securing the bandage in place, Mark quickly helping him lift Jackson’s arm slightly to allow Jinyoung to unwind the bindings neatly. “But now that we’re here…”

There’s a brief moment of silence as Jinyoung fully unwinds the bandage, before there’s another general sound of surprise as Jinyoung finally peels the last bit of it off, and Jaebum blanches slightly in confusion.

_This isn’t making any sense._

“Okay,” Jaebum’s trying to maintain a cool façade though he’s pretty much spooked now. “I’ll admit, I was expecting a lot worse.”

It’s a messy gash, for sure, but then again, they know for a fact Jackson’s dealt with worse, _much_ worse, before. In contrast to the various scars littering his back and arms, this one seems _tame_ , almost.

“Looks like a grazing, by a bullet, or something,” Jinyoung frowns, grabbing gauze and some antiseptic wash. “Someone was shooting at him.”

“Who? Security?”

“Why would he let himself be shot? _Jackson_ hyung doesn’t just _get shot_ , by the complex’s crummy _security_ , at that.”

“But that doesn’t explain why he’s like this,” Mark interjects, then, the first time he’s spoken up at all throughout this entire episode, Jaebum notices. He’s standing near the head of Jackson’s bed, body wound like he’s dying to move, run, like he needs to _do something_. “He’s been shot before, he _never_ gets like this.”

Jinyoung straightens, eyes on the gauze, a slight frown on his brow.

“This is just a hunch…” he trails off uncertainly, before reaching back for the med cart and taking out a clean syringe, tearing the wrapper off and taking a tiny vial. “But maybe…maybe the bullet was…poisoned?”

Jaebum’s mouth goes dry- there’s a wired sort of silence after that, because poisons mean antidotes, mean they need to find one before the toxin claims Jackson completely, mean that no amount of bargaining and negotiation can extend his time now.

Predictably, he’s the one to ask the question they’re all dreading. “How long do you think he has?”

Jinyoung chews his lower lip, wiping a spot on Jackson’s shoulder with an alcohol swab. Hesitation on his part in the med bay is never good. “We won’t know as long as we’re not sure which poison it was, but looking at his stats now,” he takes a deep breath. “I’d say two days. Three, if we’re lucky.”

The leader takes a deep breath, eyes sliding shut momentarily. “Okay. Okay, Jinyoung, get the blood samples and send them down for testing. There’s a chance we’ve got the poison in our database, and that’ll get us a lot closer to finding an antidote, at least,” Jinyoung nods, moving in to draw the blood automatically. “The rest of us need to figure out just _who_ it was that managed to shoot Jackson so we can get a headstart on finding the antidote.”

“You mean we need to figure out who it was anyway, so we can go after them,” Mark’s voice is uneven, and Jaebum blinks, looking over at the other man. He notices then that Mark’s hands are curled into fists, so tight it looks like his knuckles are white from the pressure, the muscles in his body looking like they’re springs coiled tight, waiting to explode.

“Well, going after them isn’t that important, what we need to focus on right now is the anti-…”

“They _poisoned_ Jackson,” Mark cuts in, and even Jinyoung looks over at him this time, half in the process of transferring the blood to the vial. “Don’t you mean we have to find out who it is and _fuck_ _ing kill_ them?”

Another stretched silence follows after that.

“Hyung?” Youngjae says in a small voice.

“Mark,” Jaebum says, as calmly as he possibly can, when Mark’s tension is actually taking a toll on his own temperament. “Look, we’re going to find the antidote and get Jackson better first before we think about that, alright? It could’ve just been someone doing their job, this happens all the time-…”

“That’s not the point!” Mark snaps so sharply Bambam flinches, going rigid, as Mark points at Jackson. “The point is that Jackson’s _dying_ , and someone out there was _responsible_ for it!”

“Hyung,” Yugyeom clears his throat.

“Yugyeom, wait- Mark, listen, calm down, Jackson’s going to be fine-…”

“How do you know that? How do you know he’s not going to _die_ because some piece of shit out there _poisoned_ him?”

“ _Hyung_.”

“ _What?_ ” Jaebum almost snaps at Yugyeom, who points defensively at the door.

“Someone’s _here_.”

Jaebum turns towards the door, then, sensing everyone else in the room do the same, catching the girl standing at the doorway with the deer-in-the-headlights look in her eyes off guard.

“Uhm-…” she says in the tiniest voice Jaebum has ever heard a person speak in.

“You’re one of Jihyo’s girls, aren’t you?” Jinyoung says warmly, sends a warning look at first Jaebum, then Mark, a concealed threat for them to at least _can it_ until she isn’t there. “What, uh, what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at the Gwangju base?”

The Gwangju base is the one Academy base in the entire of South Korea possibly worse off than the Daegu base, and it makes sense that the one group of rookies newer than their unit would get sent there. Lots of gang activity (though not as much as Daegu), petty assignments and espionage equipment from before the era of the first Mission Impossible movie, as Youngjae would complain.

The girl’s bowing furiously, obviously terrified. “The medics- they got called out on emergency, two are with Unit 6 in Osaka and the other’s in Guam. I’m-…” she clears her throat. “I’m supposed to replace them for these few days. I came for a training exchange.”

“You’re still in training,” Jinyoung frowns a little. “They left you here to cover their shift?”

Mark lets out a sharp exhale, arms dropping to his sides, and the girl seems to shrink a little- Jaebum’s grateful to note that Jinyoung sends him a _look._ Jihyo would _not_ be happy to see him again if she ever found out one of Unit 7 was showing the slightest disrespect to one of her girls.

“So you’re holding the fort?” the leader clears his throat. “Tzuyu, isn’t it?”

“Yes, uhm, sunbaenim, Dahyun and I-…” she stammers, and Jinyoung gestures for them to move away, and for her to come closer.

“Look, it’s fine, we just need someone to help me take care of Jackson while we’re figuring out what happened, right?” he says pointedly, mostly to Mark, before turning to the girl, who acknowledges anxiously. “You’ve been receiving training for the past year or something, right?”

She nods, but eyes dart uncertainly from Jackson to the medical equipment Jinyoung’s hooked him up to, and Jaebum sighs, pressing a finger to his temple.

“Okay,” he exhales, trying not to let the frustration in his voice slip through. “Jinyoung, how about you brief her, just to make sure? Bambam, get the blood sample down to the labs. The rest of us go straight to the usual meeting room- we’ll try to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible.”

Jaebum squares his jaw, then, the usual deterrent to cut off all form of protest or retaliation from the rest of them, before he realises it’s Mark he’s afraid will protest, _Mark_ , their supposed beacon of calm and cooperation and sanity, but the eldest merely turns stiffly, lips pressed together tightly, before leaving the room with Bambam and Yugyeom, and Jaebum hears Jinyoung let out a sigh of relief.

“Youngjae, you too, set up the supercomputer-…”

“I just remembered,” Youngjae says, then, but Jaebum senses that he’d been waiting for a while now to say it, and wonders if he’d been too intimidated by Mark to bring it up earlier. Jinyoung moves aside for the tech specialist to hurry over to Jackson’s side, before picking up the fabric of his ruined shirt and unclipping something from the collar.

“Protocol,” Youngjae mumbles, with none of the usual bravado he’d have after making a deduction no one else had yet. “Even if the mike’s transmissions had been knocked out, it would’ve recorded Jackson for the rest of the mission. It’s worth a shot, I mean, that’s if the mike hadn’t been short circuited completely, or anything-…”

“Yeah, yeah, that’ll work,” Jaebum pats Youngjae on the back, letting out a strained breath. “Jinyoung, you got this?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you guys later,” Jinyoung glances over at Tzuyu, who’s pulling on her gloves, and Jaebum’s relieved to see that she isn’t fumbling with the basics, at least. “Hey,” Jinyoung’s looking at him, slightly reproachfully, now. “Take it easy with Mark, okay? This isn’t easy for him, considering, you know-…”

“Oh, you’re on his side now?” Jaebum mutters, and Jinyoung shoves him slightly with his elbow.

“ _Jaebum_. Make this easier on all of them, okay?”

“Alright, alright,” Jaebum grumbles, following Youngjae out the door, who’s looking back at the two of them hopefully. “You’d better come over soon, I’m not sure how much more I can take of this.”

The door swings shut behind him, throwing the door into a welcomed silence, save for Tzuyu puttering about in a corner, and Jinyoung lets out a breath, body going slack against the hard-backed chair. He casts a partially frustrated, partially sad glance in Jackson’s direction, where the other man’s still in restless sleep, breathing harsh, eyelids fluttering every now and then.

“You’d better come back soon, you jerk,” he mutters, pulling the ruined scraps of Jackson’s shirt off, before tugging the blanket up, tucking him in firmly. “You chose a pretty bad method to take a break.”

For once this time, Jackson doesn’t snark back, the air between them frozen in a stifling silence, and Jinyoung forces himself not to think about it as he stands, rifling through the supplies for an evidence bag.

“Oppa?”

Jinyoung seals the fabric in the clear plastic, stamping it swiftly to mark it as evidence and reminding himself to send the samples down to the labs sometime soon, before turning to face Tzuyu. “Okay,” he shifts the med cart out of the way, before taking a breath. “How far has your training gone, exactly?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this overly dramatic and ridics enough yet????
> 
> i hope this first chapter was okay though...? comments will be honestly and truly appreciated, hope you like what's to come ;A;
> 
> p.s. ok yes there will be other groups i did not mention this but uhm. have no fear!!! main focus will definitely still be on got7 ^.^


	3. 002.

“We need to figure out everything we know.”

To anyone, it might look like Jaebum’s scrawling meaninglessly on the glossy white table top- if not for the light screen in front of them displaying everything he’s writing. Bambam had joined some time ago, though Jinyoung still had yet to show up, even halfway through the briefing.

They're in one of the meeting rooms- ridiculously backward in terms of tech equipment, Youngjae complains, compared to the ones in Busan, even, but Jaebum doesn't want to admit he can't grasp half of the tech that's already available here. He'd walked in on Yugyeom and Bambam playing virtual holographic table tennis with one of the board room tables once- honestly, why can't even the tables just be  _normal_ , for once?

“Jackson was already in the midst of the mission proper when Youngjae lost contact with him in the complex,” Jaebum says, scribbling down timestamps. “He was actively trying to avoid detection after leaving the complex, too, though he knows he’s supposed to make contact with us in the case that his radio fails- that or whatever got him incapacitated him to the point he couldn’t. We need to figure out what happened in between.”

“I checked, his mic isn’t dead- the transmission just got cut off,” Youngjae takes the button mic out of his pocket, setting on the table, little white light circles rippling out around it as the device is detected and analysed. “Which means everything he’s said after that wasn’t lost, it’s just been recorded down. It’s a feature HQ got installed about a year ago when it got too troublesome trying to determine CODs just by doing autopsies on ex-agents’ bodies.”

“That’s encouraging,” Bambam mutters, and Jaebum eyes the second youngest sternly.

The specialist’s fingers are dextrous, nimbly opening the display screen on the table, pulling up several sliders and what looks like a volume bar, before turning it up slowly, eyes on the flashing white numbers on the table.

Jaebum sees the rest of them react to Jackson’s voice by varying degrees, Mark barely moving, eyes drilling into the file on the table, and Bambam tensing, sucking in a breath. He’s pretty sure he knows what they all might be thinking of right now- _this might be the last we ever hear of Jackson’s voice._

“… _and you said you’d buy me that beef set for Christmas. Like, the really big one. What happened to that?”_

Youngjae’s voice comes in after that.

“ _Hyung, you still owe me that video game from like, two years back.”_

Youngjae fast forwards impatiently using the slider, stopping in between snatches of conversations, comments by Jackson on the how _that topiary kinda looks like Jinyoung’s ass_ and _Jaebum has more wrinkles than that professor on the board of directors_ , before he stops suddenly in the middle of Jackson’s rant about how Bambam always takes too long in the dorm bathrooms in the morning.

“Here’s where I lost him,” he says quickly, straightening up. It’s barely noticeable, with the way Jackson just keeps _talking and talking_ , but eventually the other man seems to notice it too.

“ _Jae? Jae, you there?”_ Jackson sounds a little in disbelief. “ _Did you just-…did you hang up on me? Oh you did_ not _, that is-…most unprofessional, Jae, I was having a decent conversation with you. That was totally uncalled for.”_

There’s a longer pause, before Jackson speaks up again, sounding a little puzzled. “ _Okay, I got it Jae, I’m noisy, you can come back now.”_

There’s a few more mumbles of _maybe coffee break_ and _or tiny bladder_ and lots of snickers, before Jackson starts humming his way towards the office. It sinks in, then, properly, for Jaebum, that he might never have to tell Jackson to _just shut up already_ again. The thought chills him to the bone, and he forces himself to focus on the recording instead.

“ _Whoa, shitshitshit_ ,” everyone seems to tense at once as Jackson swears, before going completely silent except for the sound of his breaths, quiet and even, like a hunter’s. It stays like that for a while, before Jackson lets out a nervous sort of laugh. _“Wow, uh, what’s he doing here?”_ There’s a moment’s pause, in which the entire room strains to hear what happens next. _“It’d uh, it’d be pretty dumb if they contracted out two companies to do the same crummy job, right?”_

“What’s that?” Jaebum asks sharply. “What’d he say? Two companies?”

The next sentence confirms his fears, then.

“ _The uh, the peace treaty’s still on, right?”_

Mark’s face seems to turn to stone then. “So it was an agent from another company.”

Youngjae pauses the recording, slightly uncomfortable. “That…that complicates things, doesn’t it?”

Things have been tense between the top three agencies since what feels like the beginning of time: JYP Academy, YG Institution and the SM Foundation- but then again, Unit 7 had only been recruited into the force after the treaty marking their collusion had been signed some time back.

They formed a strict oligopoly, the three of them, controlling the market with an iron fist as far as their _services_ were concerned, and it’d become apparent that some form of compromise and cooperation, at least, was needed, to both make sure everyone made money and managed to protect their agents, and hence the collusive treaty had been signed a decade or so back.

It was a (technically illegitimate, but then again, everything about what they did wasn’t exactly legal to start with, so there) agreement between the three of them never to intentionally harm an agent from another company, a platform for them to sort out assignments to make sure their clients never pulled a fast one on them by turning them against each other. Like every other contract, it had its loopholes and weaknesses, but it was better than nothing, as Jaebum wearily reinforced to the rest of Unit 7 every time they had another brush with the _other agents_.

 _Politics_ , the leader thinks dubiously. He’d never been fond of diplomacy and double entendre, preferring to leave those to Jinyoung and Jackson.

“Finish the recording,” the leader says hastily, sensing the lightning about to strike the ground and shatter the earth from Mark’s side of the table. “Just because Jackson saw someone from another company doesn’t mean they were the ones who shot him.”

“It makes sense, though?” Bambam says uncertainly. “I mean, Jackson hyung wouldn’t just get shot by _anyone_ \- it’d have to be someone specially trained.”

“We’ll see,” Youngjae says, biting his lip, probably as wired as Jaebum is about this whole thing. It’s been ages since there was a direct clash like this between the different companies, and Jaebum has no intention for Unit 7 to be the one to break that record.

“ _…guess he’s really not there,_ ” Jackson sighs into the recording. _“Jae, this lock isn’t going to open itself, you know. No one takes toilet breaks that long.”_

“His other equipment must be functioning fine, then,” Youngjae frowns. “It wasn’t something that knocked out his tracker and electronic map, if he still doesn’t think something’s wrong.”

“ _Good thing I’m a great student who cares about enriching my learning experience and got all those lessons from Jinyoung and Markie-mark,”_ Jackson sounds utterly proud of himself. “ _This lock shouldn’t be too bad, right? Then I just need to get in that skeleton card Youngjae can’t stop talking about-…”_

There’s a pause, then a distant beep as the door opens, a quiet whoop, and a long pause. After about a minute or so of silence, Jaebum frowns slightly, glancing at Youngjae, conveying the question probably on all their minds- _what’s Jackson doing?_

“He’s setting the bugs,” Youngjae sounds confused, for some reason.

_“Hacking thingies are all in! Now for my great heroic escape-…”_

Youngjae pauses the recording again, opening another window, this time apparently from the company supercomputer he’d been using while on the mission with Jackson.

“I never got it,” Youngjae muses quietly, like he’s thinking.

“Never got what?” Jaebum is sick to death of the pronoun game, if he’s to be honest.

“The transmission,” Youngjae frowns, bringing another window up. “I was supposed to get an opening for me to hack into their system the moment he set the bugs- which means they aren’t working.”

“He placed those bugs for nothing,” Bambam concludes, and Jaebum sighs.

“No, no, this is useful,” Youngjae says, glancing nervously over at Mark, who’s still watching the situation unfold, face clean of expression. “It means something knocked out or blocked the transmission capabilities of his equipment. That’s why his radio and the bugs he set weren’t working but the rest of his equipment was doing fine- there was something there obstructing the signal. At least we know why we lost contact.”

“That’s some pretty advanced espionage equipment for regular security,” Yugyeom adds thoughtfully. “Which points again to the fact that whoever attacked Jackson could’ve been from another company.”

“Keep the recording going, we still don’t know how he got attacked,” Jaebum reminds them, and Youngjae obliges.

“ _…this place is one hell of a labyrinth,”_ Jackson still sounds vaguely calm, though the rest of them know he’s worried by now. Jaebum realises Jackson must’ve felt well and truly alone then, alone in a gigantic complex at dark with a mystery stranger from another company wandering around. “ _Okay I’m pretty sure I went that way, or something…hey Jae, jog my memory- I know we’re not allowed to engage in conflict, yada yada, but which clause is it that says whatever about another agent attacking first? Can we fight back?”_

There’s a silence, before Jackson seems to remember. _“Oh right. Damn. This really wasn’t a good time for you to bail on me, Jae. That guy’s walking around the complex like his dad fucking built it.”_

A sigh rustles through the mike- Jackson had probably been considering his options. “ _Okay, so if I’m avoiding dumbo here, I went that way, so I’m going to have to go this way if I don’t wanna-…oh_ fuck _ing hell-…”_

The radio plunges into silence again, one that stretches far too long for Jaebum’s liking, punctuated only by periodic rustling and quiet breaths. His heart’s sinking, hoping against hope that this isn’t going to play out the way it looks like it will, because heaven knows they don’t need conflict with anyone, much less another _company,_ right now. But then-…

“ _Shit, shit!_ ” Jaebum literally feels the tension in the room spike, feels the fear in his stomach pool at the thundering of footsteps, almost like he’s the one being pursued in the darkness. _“Why’s he even after me-…”_ Jaebum sees Bambam physically flinch as gunshots sound, then. “ _Fuck, he’s shooting! What the hell-…_ shit _!_ ”

The last word’s almost shouted out, followed by an annoyed sound of pain.

“ _That stung, geez, what’s his problem?”_ The footsteps have stopped, and Jaebum wonders why the pursuit’s finished already. Jackson must’ve found somewhere to hide, or something.

“Now _where am I? Where’s the door- ow, what’s with all the discs? Why’d this stupid building have to be so_ big _-…stupid shelves everywhere-…it’s cold in here. Where is this place even, ugh, why is everything so dark?”_

 

Jaebum waits with the rest, with bated breath, as the recording plays out, but it's just laboured breathing and the sound of soft, heavy footfalls after that, like even Jackson's given up on talking and just wants to get out of there as fast as he can. 

Youngjae taps fast forward in periodical bursts, and Jaebum listens in for any further clues of conflict. As expected, there are none, just grumbles about how painful it is and how he’s so going to kill Youngjae when he gets back to base for abandoning him.

It’s an audio recording spread over almost twenty four hours, after that, voicing Jackson’s concerns about whether _that company might be onto me? Shit, I guess that rules out radioing for help._

Jaebum can literally feel the hairs at the back of his neck begin to stand as Jackson’s dialogue starts to devolve a few hours in, probably as a result of the poison, from increasingly breathless complaints about how tired he is, the pains mysteriously cropping up in his back and neck, the breathlessness, as the pauses in between his sentences grow longer and longer, coherency reducing to mumbles and breathy laughter, before the audio clip sinks into a thick, oppressive silence, Jackson’s laboured, pained breaths the only audible noise.

An equally haunting quiet seems to cling to the room as Youngjae finally shuts the recording off, looking slightly sick.

“So it’s confirmed then,” Jaebum says flatly, more to clear the silence than anything else. “It was poison. Most probably from a bullet, most probably shot by an agent from another company. Of course, we’ll get more concrete results after the poison blood tests, but for now, that’s what we’re going to have to work with.”

“Any way to find out who?” Mark asks quietly from his seat, eyes on the table.

“I…I had Jackson temporarily disable the cameras around his area,” Youngjae admits, like it’s something to be ashamed of. “Just the usual stuff, to make sure they wouldn’t be able to trace the espionage back to us. I didn’t think _we’d_ need to footage, or I would’ve tried to hack into the mainframe myself and take over the system.”

“It’s hard to believe there wouldn’t be any other footage of whoever it was, though?” Yugyeom voices out, looking slightly troubled. “What about earlier? Or after it happened?”

“I started a facial recognition test spanning the evening and the three hours before the mission started,” Youngjae gestures helplessly behind him, probably to the company supercomputer. “It’ll warn me when we get a hit, but that could take ages. It’s a lot of people to cover in that six hours, and we’ve got the profiles of every agent from the other two companies to check against.”

“Well…you don’t _have_ to go through all that, don’t you?” Yugyeom shrugs, and Jaebum turns to him, puzzled. “You just need to get the time and location when and where you lost contact with Jackson, then run a cross check with all the cameras within the radius of the scrambler’s reach at that point in time.”

“I could do that, good idea,” Youngjae nods, pulling up a window from the screen on the table. “Whatever transmission blackout device it is probably has a range of about six to eight metres, especially if this is a minor mission, assuming they were just here on watch duty. Considering the fact that Jackson’s equipment was working just fine before, I assume he’d _just_ gotten into range when comms were cut, so that’d mean-…” he narrows the bar on his display screen, before shrugging. “I still don’t know how long it’ll take, and _if_ it’ll work at all- we only have partials of their faces in bad lighting.”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s a start,” Jaebum stands, leaning slightly onto the table, watching the video that Youngjae pulls up, a fast forward of the various relevant security camera feeds, matching each passing face with the profiles of every agent they’ve managed to log into their database. “Start the search from their newest units, and start it from YG. If the guy who was after Jackson had been deliberately after him, it would’ve been an YG agent, and it would’ve been one of their newer agents if Jackson didn’t manage to immediately identify him. SM doesn’t usually mess around with the other companies like this.”

“Got it,” Youngjae types a few more commands in, but Jaebum doesn’t miss the flicker of hesitation in his eyes when he does so.

“The rest of us, stick around the building and rest up, we’ll need you guys to be around once the search results are confirmed,” Jaebum orders, adjourning the meeting, eyeing the rest of them as they stand, still watching him. “One of you, call Jinyoung up and inform him of our progress. Stay on the alert for when the search is done.”

But then, barely a second after he’s given the order and a few quiet, sharp footsteps later, the door’s pulled open and left to ease shut slowly, and Jaebum takes a deep breath, holding it in for a few seconds, before sighing explosively, as the three youngest glance at him nervously.

“I’ll talk to him, just do what I told you guys to,” the leader mutters darkly, trudging wearily out of the room after Mark, letting the door swing shut behind him, possibly with even more force than before.

The three boys wince simultaneously as the door clicks into place particularly vindictively, reminiscent of a particularly poisonous wrath they haven’t felt in a while, and Yugyeom settles carefully in the chair opposite Youngjae and Bambam, putting his radio on the table. Two seconds, then-…

“Not gonna do it,” the two youngest say at once, and Youngjae squints at the two of them, their hands currently raised in surrender.

“I’m actually _doing_ stuff here,” he gestures to the screen, and the maknaes shrug.

“We all know he likes you best,” Bambam adds, shrugging exaggeratedly, and Youngjae scowls at him, frown intensifying when Yugyeom nods vigorously in agreement.

“Both of you are the worst,” Youngjae mutters, reluctantly taking out his radio, and the maknaes share a discreet high five under the table as the tech specialist sighs, making the call.

“Jinyoung-hyung,” he says, about three seconds later, staring morosely at the screen, and there’s a moment’s silence while Bambam and Yugyeom watch him anxiously. Youngjae glances absently at the door, and winces a little.

“ _Yeah_ , about that,” Youngjae says miserably, tapping the slider on the touchscreen table tentatively. “Things aren’t really doing too great over here.”

*

It takes Jaebum twenty minutes and a couple of uncomfortable questions posed to curious Academy staff to find Mark, alone in the Arms and Equipment check-out, and his stomach twists in unease at the quiet, steady sounds of clinking metal.

“Mark,” Jaebum calls again, and the eldest barely spares a glance back to show he’s heard him. “Hey, look, take it easy for a bit, okay? Everyone’s doing their best to help figure out what happened and how to fix things.”

There’s an unnerving five seconds of silence before Mark replies, not taking his eyes off the gun in his hands. “I know.”

Jaebum has to call on every form of training he’s been subjected to in this career to keep calm.

“…then?” he struggles to keep the irritation out of his voice. “Don’t you know how much you’re affecting the rest of them?”

“I didn’t ask them to be,” Mark pushes the slide on top of the gun in one fluid movement with a solid _click_ , seemingly only half-paying attention to what he’s doing. He’s barely even looking at the weapon, staring at some indiscriminate spot on the table as he sets the gun down on the table, fingers drifting over a spare ammo kit.

“Yeah, well, the thing about being in a team is that it’s _normal_ for the rest of us to be affected, because these people are _concerned_ about you,” Jaebum says, honestly _this close_ to exploding right then and there. “You’re never like this, hyung-…are you even listening to me?”

Mark raises the gun like lightning, then, and Jaebum barely has the time to respond to the warning _click_ inches from his face before the eldest fires.

Something explodes from behind him, and Jaebum spins, wobbling dangerously in his haste, watching the target at the back of the room go up in flames.

“What the _fuck_ was that, man?” Jaebum demands, but Mark barely acknowledges, only letting the arm with the gun fall limply to his side. “And we’re not supposed to check ammunition out unless we get clearance from higher up!” The leader takes a step towards him, voice getting sharper and louder with every word. “Are you even _thinking_ about what could happen if you killed another agent?”

“Whoever it was that shot Jackson wasn’t _supposed_ to shoot him,” Mark retorts, holstering the gun and grabbing the spare ammo kit, walking around the counter, steps bold as he approaches Jaebum. “Don’t fucking lecture me, Jaebum- if it were Jinyoung, you’d be worse than this. _You_ guys focus on finding the antidote. Once we find out who did this, I’m going to track the fucker down and blow his head off.”

“Listen to me!” Jaebum cuts him off, patience fraying down to a thread. “You _can’t_ handle this on your own- we have to work _together_ to get an antidote for Jackson. And do you know the kind of trouble you’d get us all into if you offed another agent, _even_ if they made the first move? You’d do that to the Academy?”

“You don’t give a _shit_ about what happens to Jackson,” Mark snarls, jabbing him in the chest. “All you care about is staying _safe_. If we know another agent did that to Jackson then why aren’t we storming the base right now?

“ _Storming the base_? First, we don’t even know where to start, second, are you crazy?” Jaebum shoves his hand away, drawing himself up to full height. “You’ll get us all _killed,_ or imprisoned and nowhere closer to finding an antidote. Now put the gun back and relax, okay?”

For a moment, there, Jaebum sees something flicker in Mark’s eyes, sees the way his fists tighten, and involuntarily braces for a blow to his jaw, or something.

But Mark just lets out a breath, shouldering Jaebum out of the way and walking towards the door, stowing the gun in his belt.

“Mark,” Jaebum calls sharply. “The gun. Mark-….”

The door swings shut behind him, and the leader feels the edges of his patience _really_ begin to slip for the first time since they’d dragged him away from the rest of them for half a year to drill everything it took to be a _leader_ into him, and he’s storming towards the door, about to wrench it open and properly speak his mind, when his radio beeps.

“That _idiot_ ,” Jaebum doesn’t know how he manages to hold back the sea of expletives threatening to spill over the dams in his head, wrenching the radio from his belt and hitting the receive button with a lot more force than probably necessary. “ _What_? What is it?”

“ _Whoa,_ ” Jinyoung’s voice chimes over the radio, and Jaebum takes a deep breath, massaging his right temple with two fingers. “ _Guess I called at a bad time.”_

“No, no, it’s great, I’m pretty sure I would’ve committed murder if you hadn’t,” Jaebum grumbles, kicking out one of the low chairs in the room vindictively and settling heavily onto it. “Why? Is something up with Jackson?”

“ _Jae told me what happened just now,”_ Jaebum’s grateful for the sympathy he hears in Jinyoung’s voice, slumping back against the wall to take the sound of it in properly. _“You okay?”_

“Yeah,” Jaebum grimaces. “I don’t even get it- Mark’s _never_ like this. Hell, the closest trouble we ever got to this came from _me_ back then.”

“ _Yeah, well, Jackson’s never gotten himself into this much trouble before, either,”_ Jinyoung doesn’t sound all too worried, though, and Jaebum hopes for a moment that he can skim off some of the other man’s self-assuredness. “ _Listen, don’t worry about Mark, I’ll talk to him, maybe get Yugyeom or Jae to help. And if that doesn’t work, we can always call the seniors in Seoul to talk him through this. Just focus on getting the antidote, okay hyung?”_

“Mm,” Jaebum grumbles, hoping the relief isn’t showing too audibly in his tone. Maybe Mark having a soft spot for Jinyoung and Youngjae can finally come in handy. “How’s uh, how’s Jackson doing? You didn’t show up through the entire briefing.”

“ _Oh, about that_ ,” Jinyoung’s voice drops a little, sounding slightly hesitant for the first time in the entire conversation. “ _Something, uhm, something happened just now. Jackson had some sort of, uhm,_ reaction _, like a mini seizure of sorts,_ ” Jaebum sits up properly here, listening hard. “ _He’s fine now, and Tzuyu’s doing all the basic checks, but she panicked the first time it happened, so I thought it’d be better if I stay here for the time being. Of course, I’ll join you guys if you give the word, but Tzuyu doesn’t seem too confident about being here with Jackson alone._ ”

“No, no it’s okay, I’d feel safer with you there,” Jaebum sighs, standing and heading for the door. “Be on standby, I’ll call you if things get messy. I’m counting on you for that magical motivational conversation with Mark.”

“ _Got it. One magical motivational conversation coming right up. Anything else?_ ”

“Oh. Uh,” Jaebum hesitates before stepping out of the room, reaching up absently to rub the back of his neck, before sighing abrasively, knowing that there’s no way out of it now. “By the way. Thanks. Uh. For everything.”

There’s a pause, before snide laughter bubbles up through the radio, and Jaebum makes a face at nothing in particular.

“ _You’re welcome. Uh. For everything,_ ” Jinyoung mimics, and Jaebum growls at him, not even bothering to try to put venom into that sound, knowing he won’t mean it anyway, and even if he did, Jinyoung would at the very most laugh at him for it. _“Are we going to do this every time this happens, hyung?”_

“Yah,” Jaebum jabs at the air, like Jinyoung’s right in front of him to feel it. “Don’t push it, I don’t give these things out easily.”

“ _Trust me, we’re all aware_ ,” Jinyoung says drily, but there’s a level of satisfaction in his voice that lets Jaebum know he hasn’t taken the gratitude lightly, letting the leader escape the situation with at least some of his pride intact. “ _Don’t worry about Mark, okay? If there’s anyone you should be helping, it’s Jae- I’m just hoping the maknaes haven’t driven him completely up the wall yet by bothering him while he’s trying to work.”_

“Yeah,” Jaebum says the word through a rustling sigh, shoulders inexplicably lighter, managing to actually close the Arms and Equipment door behind him without trying to slam it. “Thanks, I owe you one. See you later.”

“ _You got it, leader. Over and out._ ”

Jaebum shuts the radio off, slumping lightly against the nearest wall and taking a deep breath, eyes closed. It’s at times like these he wonders why it’d been _him-_ sure, he’s one of the oldest, debatably one of the strongest, possibly the most intimidating (but with Mark like this now he isn’t so sure about that anymore), but it’s apparent to anyone that that’s where his leadership qualities end. The rest of it: the rational mind, the strategizing, the management of team dynamics, had been drilled forcefully into him, never once coming naturally.

It’s the reason why he both curses and thanks the heavens for this team, because while it’s true that most of them have brought him through hell and back, all for their own different reasons (just look at Bambam and Yugyeom for living examples), in the same way they’re the reasons life here is bearable, the reason he forces himself out of bed every morning to deal with the management or plan out another mission, and he can’t imagine living a day without any of them.

( _Some more than others_ , Bambam would mumble on any other day if he’d been here, and Jaebum would smack him on the back of the head.)

Getting upset or angry over something never helps, and Jaebum had learned that personally ages ago. It’s the reason he zips up his emotions, tucking them away forcefully for the time being, despite everything that’s happening right now, everything that could happen in the future.

Maybe some people just couldn’t see it that way.

(Or maybe they’ve just been doing it for too long.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yes, that was incessantly overdramatic as promised! ok but honest this is probably the most cringeworthy part, the rest of the fic will be better, i promise T.T there were unfortunately no hot bodyslams as proposed on my twitter due to several considerably more sober parties voting nay on that, but there was many conflict and much getting in each other's faces and trading breath, also obvious pairing stuff shoehorned in!! 
> 
> yes.
> 
> as usual, comments will honestly and truly be appreciated \o/ thank you, please take care of my tiny gross heart if you have the time ;A; thank wonderful humans


	4. 003.

_Jaebum picks up a vegetable with his chopsticks and scrutinises it, before eating it nonchalantly._

_He’s at the usual table at the mess hall, chewing mechanically, and Jinyoung’s by his side, chatting about the latest sparring session, while Jaebum nods in tune, reviewing the lesson in his head himself. For a quick, irrational moment, he bemoans how dull the status quo has become, before quickly retracting that statement. He’s had enough excitement to last him a lifetime already, without what’s coming up wrecking that quota._

_It’s not difficult to notice, then, the pale boy with scruffy red hair and a black face mask sidling sullenly into the Hall across them- of course Jaebum does, because he notices everyone._

_He nudges Jinyoung subtly, and the other boy stops in mid-tangent quizzically. “New kid,” he nods, and Jinyoung follows his gaze._

_After a moment, though, Jaebum shoves another spoonful of rice into his own mouth unconcernedly. People come and go all the time. This one doesn’t look like he’ll be any different._

_“He looks kinda angry,” Jinyoung squints. “Should we-…should we try to say hello?”_

_“And then I find you all miserable and sulky back at our room again two hours later because he blew you off?” Jaebum grunts. “No thanks.”_

_Jinyoung huffs something like_ that was one time two years ago _under his breath, chewing on a mouthful of food and refusing to look the other boy in the eye._

_Jaebum steals another glance up- more curious gazes are being directed towards the new kid, but all it takes is one sharp glance from him for them to decide he’s not worth the trouble. There’s nothing particularly fierce about the look in his eyes, it’s more of the lack of anything that scares them, like the ghost of a storm threatening to break, letting their imagination be the one to promise broken bones and split lips if they aren’t careful._

_Jungyeon sets her tray on their table and plops down beside Jaebum, glancing with disinterest in the direction where they’re looking._

_“Wager,” she offers. “I give him two months. Before he almost kills one of the other recruits and has to be “released”.”_

_Jaebum wishes he could disagree, but the way that guy’s hunched in a corner, fists stuffed in his jacket pockets, coolly watching the rest of the hall under the pretence that he’s not trembling in his fancy combat boots, is a guarantee of eventual defection. Boys like him are lava and gunpowder, clamped down under dirt, and without water to cake them up, will burn everything that crosses their path._

_He has a month, max, especially with the winter trials- the fiercest of the training drills, coming up._

_Jaebum’s about to voice that opinion when the door opens again, and someone tumbles in- dark hair, big eyes, bigger smile, for reasons Jaebum can’t understand. Most recruits are usually wide-eyed, fearful in their first few weeks here, at least, but this guy seems as comfortable as if he’s been here all his life. That, or he’s just a really good actor._

_He watches through narrowed eyes as the second boy claps the first on the back, raising a brow when he slings an arm over his shoulder, half dragging him along towards the food collection point._

_Does this kid have a death wish, or something?_

_But instead of pulling a knife on him like Jaebum had expected, the first guy lets himself be pulled along- Jaebum can see him roll his eyes over the top of that mask, sees the way the tension rolls out of his shoulders, like a sigh of relief._

_“They know each other?” Jinyoung murmurs to Jaebum, who lifts a shoulder in the form of a shrug, when he’s really watching them carefully over the rim of his standard-issue mug._

_His eyes follow the two as they approach a table, where, as expected, the second guy’s the one to start talking, all smiles and smooth jokes._

_“Yeah, laugh a little louder, why don’t you, I’m pretty sure the whole Mess can’t hear you yet,” Jungyeon mutters, cutting up her chicken, as Jihyo settles at the table with her tray._

_“Talking about Jackson Wang?” she raises a brow. “You’d be joining the rest of the Academy. The girls couldn’t stop whispering about him since he set foot into Training Room 7 with Mark this morning.”_

_“What have you heard about them?” Jinyoung asks curiously, and Jaebum listens in, reluctant to admit that he’s interested too._

_“He just came in a couple days ago. Him and Mark,” Jihyo messes with her cutlery, bumping Jungyeon over with her butt before settling down. “Jackson’s your typical story, I guess- street thug turned assassin, but no one really knows much about Mark. There are some pretty wild theories that he’s an alien, though.”_

_“They worked independent before this?”_

_“Didn’t we all?” Jungyeon shrugs. “Albeit some against our will.”_

_Jaebum recoils a little at that, ducking his head to look down into his food and eat another spoon of rice, steeling himself for the brief moment until it’s passed, and willing away the stab of shame that follows._

_“What do you think Mark did before?” Jinyoung pulls the conversation back expertly, and Jaebum doesn’t have the courage to thank him. Not yet, anyway, fast forward about five years- but that’s another story._

_Jihyo throws out a couple of ideas (“I’ve seen some “Mark”s on corporate client hit lists- you think he did espionage?”), until Jinyoung shifts beside Jaebum, gesturing towards them._

_Jaebum straightens stiffly, expression turning stoic as Kunpimook joins them, settling automatically at Jinyoung’s side. He glances over, and sure enough, has to stare down the couple of guys sitting three tables away, the exact ones who’d thought it’d be funny to drag the younger boy into an empty bathroom and mess him up after he surpassed their scores for the individual field mission rankings._

_Predictably, they look away like they’d been stung- their “prank” had gotten real old real fast, even to them, especially when Jaebum’d walked in, arms folded across his chest, glaring at them until they apologised in stutters and fled._

_Jinyoung likes to snark that it’s his overall unpleasant demeanour that has that effect, though the fact that Jaebum’s currently sitting at the top in terms of overall rankings might have had something to do with it too._

_(Jihyo’s an exception- she’d hit Jaebum after he made one of the other female recruits cry, they’d had a week of tension and death stares, and suddenly they were sitting together for lunch every day and trading passive-aggressive barbs on whose headshot looks uglier on the LED leaderboards. Jaebum still has no idea how it’d happened, except for the fact that it might have had something to do with Jinyoung.)_

_They say the rankings are the reason why JYP’s chosen him to be the leader of the Academy’s next male unit, but Jaebum knows there’s a lot more to it than that- the one before him pretty much made sure of that. It’s about chemistry, teamwork, sacrifice, and how well he knows the rest of them, but the fact remains that he won’t get to know who his team members are until possibly a year later. Best of all, he won’t even get to choose._

_That’s the part that rankles him the most._

_“We’re gossiping,” Jinyoung informs Kunpimook, throwing an arm around him, still careful not to touch the bruise he knows is blooming on the younger boy’s left shoulder. “You happen to know anything about the new guys?”_

_Kunpimook looks over at the table on the far end, wide eyes both cautious and curious. Jaebum’s definitely listening, now- the young Thai boy’s the only one out of them all to have actually grown up in the filth of the criminal underground, and it's one thing to memorise names on a factsheet, and another to have experienced it._

_“That’s Mark,” Kunpimook looks a little surprised. “Mark Tuan.”_

_"Tuan?" Jinyoung frowns. "Like, Duan Yi-En?"_

_“You guys know about him?” Jungyeon’s leaning in, both brows raised so high it looks comical._

_“Not much, and it was pretty difficult recognising him at all,” Kunpimook’s watching the duo with barely concealed curiosity, now. "It only hit me after I saw Jackson- they started working together some years back."_

_Jinyoung glances over, looking troubled- Jaebum wonders if it stems from experience, if Jinyoung's family or relatives have ever had a brush with that guy. "Going solo's been a big part of the deal for Yi-En, though, at least from what I remember- it’s kinda strange, why’d he be here in the Academy?”_

_"You never know?” Jihyo shrugs. “The Academy does recruit in shady ways. I mean, we’re not SM, or anything, but still.”_

_Meanwhile, Jinyoung nudges Jaebum, voice low over the chatter at the table as Jungyeon continues interrogating Kunpimook, as if to say_ what about them?

_Jaebum makes a derisive noise, turning over a piece of meat with his spoon. “Too much trouble. Doesn’t look like the Jackson guy can stop talking, or that Mark can talk at all.”_

_Jinyoung gives him a_ look _. “You know, hyung, your word’s not going to count for much when JYP picks Unit 7 for you later.”_

_The older boy sighs into his plate at the thought, eyes squeezing shut, stress weighing heavy on his shoulders at the thought. “Yeah, okay. I get it. I just-…”_

_He trails off for a bit after that, before continuing in a significantly lower tone. “I don’t know if I can manage anyone, Jinyoung- hell, I can’t even manage myself. I just don’t think he made the right choice.”_

_“Like real,” Jinyoung scoffs. “There’s a reason you were chosen out of everyone else, hyung, he sees the way you operate in the field, the way you conduct yourself during our practice missions- no one’s born the perfect leader. He trusts you to be able to carry the Academy name. And besides,” Jinyoung seems to deflate a little, shrugging to keep the front up. “You’re going away for that six-month leadership training next year. Never know what might change by the time you get back.”_

_Jaebum winces again- he’d forgotten about the training for a few glorious hours._

_“Yeah,” he mumbles, nodding gruffly towards their food and giving Kunpimook a warning glance to_ stop ogling the new pair, unless you want a repeat of the last two days _. “Maybe you’ll be in it, and them, and Kunpimook. Throw in a couple of nasty surprises and Unit 7 will be set.”_

_“Say anymore and you’re going to regret those words one day,” Jinyoung rolls his eyes. “You know, the new guys- I don’t think they’re so bad, honestly. Just a little unstable without each other, maybe.”_

_Jaebum thinks of himself with the rest of them, for a real, genuine moment, and shivers._

_*_

Jaebum snaps automatically out of his half-sleep at the first buzz from his radio, shaking his head clear. His mind usually goes to fragments of the past at times like these, vague, fuzzy moments lost in the periphery of his memories, and it’s stupid, in hindsight, when there are a load more important things he should be focusing on now.

No one would’ve thought that it’d work out the way it did. And now, those people might just be proven right.

The leader forces his head back in the game, checking his watch automatically to see that only three hours have passed since they first started searching. Youngjae’s ahead of schedule.

“You got it?” he clears his throat before speaking, up and alert in ten blinks, and Youngjae hums assent, sounding exhausted but satisfied. He’d probably been working hard on customising that facial recognition program, Jaebum thinks. “Wow, that was fast.”

“I uh,” Youngjae hesitates. “I had a few reservations about your uh, your search frame, so I added some tweaks of my own, and it turns out I was right. I’m calling Bam now back from the practice rooms, he’s with Gyeom.”

“Don’t call Mark yet,” Jaebum says sharply. “I want to know what’s going on first. Stay in the room till I get there.”

*

Youngjae’s already got a screen up, Bambam and Yugyeom settling in their own chairs, tapping in indecipherable numbers and letters by the time Jaebum walks in and pulls out a chair.

“Well?” the leader says, trying not to sound too anxious. “How’d you narrow your search, by the way?”

“I didn’t start it from YG,” Youngjae confesses, pulling up another screen. “Something didn’t click, you know? Jimin’s been managing good relationships with a lot of the agents there and I _know_ , that’s not supposed to affect their professional choices, but it didn’t seem right that they’d agree so easily to an assassination or a watch duty job, especially one involving _Jackson-hyung_ of all people, you know?”

“Looking at their new units, it wouldn’t be that much of a stretch,” Jaebum says flatly, peering at the screen, trying to make sense of whatever Youngjae’s writing. “How can we be sure?”

“There’s something else- uh, something Jackson said,” Youngjae looks a little embarrassed. “The whole _dumbo_ thing- I remembered something, you know, from back at Osaka when we had a brush with Unit EXO last year and I piggybacked their radio frequency to make sure they weren’t planning anything that might cause conflict of interest. It’s what one of the guys called another, and it could’ve been just a coincidence, but-…”

He finally brings up the camera freeze frames, just a bunch of blurred pictures at first, then Youngjae sharpens them with the programme he’d been customising just now, until a decent outline begins to form.

It’s a man about Jaebum’s age, face comically youthful and features faintly handsome, even in the grainy CCTV image, looking anxiously to the side, brow creased in fear. Jaebum knows that face- he’d forced himself to memorise the profiles of every new agent in the industry so they’d never be caught off guard.

“Park Chanyeol, arms specialist of one of SM’s newer male units,” Youngjae says, sounding slightly nervous now. Chanyeol’s one of the most well-known of his unit, even throughout the entire industry, and going up against him probably means going up against the equally strong members of his team. None of them are particularly anticipating that sort of fight right now. “It’s a 96% hit, and I cross checked with footage from outside the building and inside earlier that day. He’s come up on cameras several times- it seems like the security guards know he’s there, too, so it isn’t like he’s on a covert mission. The company must have hired him to either protect the property there or get rid of Jackson specifically.”

“How would the firm even have known?” Yugyeom looks vaguely troubled.

“Probably a tip-off, it happens sometimes,” Jaebum takes a deep breath, running through all the stupid standard operating procedures that are bound to follow in his head. “ _Shit_ , it just had to be that guy, out of _twelve_ (“well, nine,” Youngjae reminds him tentatively) of them, it had to be the one we’d have the most trouble pinning anything properly on. You can bet they’re going to bend over backwards to cover up any shit this guy pulls, with how much he’s bringing in for the company.”

“Well, on the bright side,” Bambam says helpfully, here. “At least it wasn’t a YG agent, right?”

The three youngest shudder, and even Jaebum’s forced to look at things in perspective, then. True- at least it isn’t a YG agent.

“Okay, then, since we know who it was, let’s get things straightened out,” Jaebum leans heavily over the table. “We don’t know why he attacked Jackson- there’s a possibility he might not even have known it was an agent under protection of the collusive treaty. Considering the IQ estimation the techies gave us and that brush we had with the EXO unit in Montreal two years back, I wouldn’t put it past the guy. But the fact is that SM agreed to a contract location clashing with JYP’s, which is technically illegal under the collusive treaty.”

“Reporting this could blow things up,” Youngjae sounds worried, and with good reason. The three companies skirt around the boundaries of the contract more often than not, but that’d never resulted in casualties before. If SM was getting this bold, it could, at the very worst, mark the beginnings of some sort of scheme by the company to eliminate or worse, subjugate them. Either way, blood would be shed, and it wouldn’t do to count on YG for help at a time like this. Their agents were never known for being the most sympathetic of people, anyway. “We have to make sure we’ve got everything right before saying anything- this is something _big_.”

“But if we try to handle things on our own, there’s no telling _what_ SM might try to use against us,” Bambam scowls. “Did you _listen_ to their representatives during the last “conference”? They’d be able to turn the blame for Jackson’s injury on us without breaking a sweat if we try anything without official approval.”

“Whatever it is,” Jaebum says firmly. “Standard operating procedure: we need to establish a line, ask for an explanation, though I seriously doubt that’s going to help. Only if that fails are we allowed to start making a proper case out of this. I’ll have to talk this out with Kim Junmyeon, and if he denies responsibility we’ll report it with the evidence we’ve got,” he rubs his temples, sighing in frustration. “Don’t know how long _that’s_ going to take, and with Jackson still unstable in the med bay-…”

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself- _they’re depending on you_ , he reminds himself, before straightening, walking towards the screen.

“Alright, Youngjae, prepare a secure line to Junmyeon, but don’t put it through until we’ve settled things on our side. If diplomatic attempts fall through, Yugyeom and Bambam, prep the evidence we’ve got that Chanyeol shot Jackson, so we can inform the higher-ups in the Seoul base immediately. This has to be handled quickly but _properly_ , we don’t want to give SM any reason to justify what they’ve done to Jackson. Bambam, inform Jinyoung-…”

“Hyung?” Yugyeom interrupts loudly, then, and Jaebum whips around, all ready to pull rank and sharply remind the maknae of his place, before he sees the door ajar, Mark halfway in, staring at something past Jaebum.

The leader’s head whirls back, catching the blown up shots of Chanyeol’s face and profile on the projector screen, and cold hard realisation hits him low in the gut.

“Mark,” he turns back, voice low and even, as one would use with an unstable animal. “Mark, don’t, we have to settle this _officially_.”

The emotion in Mark’s eyes: cold, calm resolve, barely flickers - for all Jaebum knew, he could’ve been talking to a wall. “Mark, don’t be an idiot, you _can’t_ handle it on your own like that, don’t-… _Mark!_ ”

The door slides shut, something humming and fizzing audibly from outside, and Bambam leaps over, pulling at the sunken handle, only to withdraw his hand with a pained shout, the skin of his palm fast turning an angry burned red.

“He’s locked us in,” Youngjae hasn’t even budged, looking more upset than anxious, and Jaebum shouts in frustration, storming over to the door, the knife from his belt now in his hands.

“Jae, call Jinyoung, tell him what Mark’s planning to do,” he grits out, gesturing sharply at Yugyeom. “Gyeom, come help me get this door open. Whether or not Mark gets to Chanyeol first, once we get out of here, I’m gonna kill him.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: the plot thiCKENSSS
> 
> or rather it just became the consistency of disappointingly fluid-like ketchup as compared to water, but there is a point, and i demand that you get it.
> 
> anyway hope you guys...aren't violently opposed to the way this is heading...? T.T i was so putting this chapter off because of the introduction of other characters (i even started a whole new spy au fic titled safeword, that's how hard i tried to avoid this guys, it's unverygood and i am a sorry person to all inconvenience caused.)
> 
> ;A;
> 
> i also wanted to mention here too: please share your got7 spy tropes...? ;A; if you guys have any prompts/ideas (something as simple as "markson, focusing on xxx backstory moment/cute 2youngjae fluff set after events of freefall" would be great too!), feel free to share in the comments, and if you see something you like in the comments, second it in your comment! (though no promises ;A;) if it's done, it'll probably be added to the spy au series which this fic is in! yup. yes. requests are a thing.
> 
> as usual, comments are well and truly appreciated, and spur this hungry tired soul to do better in the future \o/ eat well and live healthily my friends, and fellow countrymen, do drink water and take shelter from this sibei pms weather.
> 
> peace


	5. 004.

There’s a young man in an evening jacket and scuffed loafers waiting by the taxi stand, next to the giggling couple and the tired salaryman, at eleven pm that night.

Few are around at this hour- it _is_ a weekday night after all, and the only ones up and about are exhausted, frazzled men and women hoping to get home as soon as possible, passing strays, and the occasional bunch of rowdy teenagers, who give the man at the taxi stand a wide berth, anyway, at the dark, warning glint in his eyes. There’s something under those deceptively wide eyes and the delicate slant to his features, something dangerous and threatening that sends them scuttling meekly by.

The businessman disappears into the first cab that comes, and the man gestures briskly for the couple to go ahead into the next one, fingers drumming impatiently against his sleeve. His ride is late.

 _Of all the days, they have to pick this one to be late,_ he grumbles at the back of his mind, tip of his shoe tapping insistently against the asphalt, (abnormally large, according to Baekhyun, but Baekhyun’s an asshole) ears alert to the slightest sound in the darkness.

Park Chanyeol should technically not have reason to be afraid.

After all, he’d completed his first espionage mission at the age of sixteen, first corporate, then government, local, then overseas, killed his first target at age eighteen, moving from _chaebols_ to gang lords to politicians and senators, and up till today, reigns through the SM Foundation, even, as one of Unit EXO’s most popular agents. If anything, other agents should be fearing _him._

 _Well,_ he thinks, in a last-ditch attempt to comfort himself. _At least it wasn’t a YG agent_.

Out of the three, at least, it was generally agreed amongst their circles that it was probably the safest to offend a JYP agent- they were predictable, operated by a standard set of rules with a standard set of loopholes, and if you messed with their territory or stole their clients they’d most probably let it slide for the sake of preserving peace between the three companies. But Chanyeol hadn’t just done any of those two days ago.

They liked to say there was a _star player_ , an MVP, of sorts, in each Unit- he’d say he was EXO’s just to piss Kyungsoo off, but even _Jongdae’s_ admitted that he’s “contributed more, or whatever” to their unit’s success (take _that_ , Baekhyun). But in this context, it’s well known, among their clientele and the authorities, even, that Jackson would be one of the so-called MVPs of JYP’s 7th Unit.

Chanyeol grimaces and sighs. _Baekhyun’s right. I’m an idiot for taking this job._

Another loud bunch of teenagers amble past, and one joins him at the taxi stand, glancing at his watch, studded snapback pulled low over his blond-dyed hair, chuckling as he pulls out his phone to start scrolling.

Chanyeol curses under his breath, considering hotwiring one of the cars in the outdoor carpark he’d seen by the park some distance back, but adding more trouble that might get him traced is _not_ what he intends to do tonight. You can’t trust these drivers for _anything_ , seriously.

Besides, he internally flinches as the man beside him sighs, it probably won’t be useful now, anyway.

The current picture feels like it’s frozen for what feels like hours, and Chanyeol’s never been the best at waiting, not like Xiumin. He tries now, though- the stakes are too high not to, anyway.

“Your ride coming late?” the young man is the one to finally break the silence, asking conversationally, tucking his phone back into his pocket, tugging at the flaps of his jacket listlessly.

“Yeah, late,” Chanyeol replies shortly, making a mental note to kick Jongdae when ( _if_ ) he gets back to the Incheon Base. He’d _promised_ him that the driver he’d hired was efficient. Too late _now_.

“Can’t trust anyone these days,” the man laughs, like he’d found something particularly funny about that. “Anyone you hire can just forget, or be outpaid.”

“Or be dead,” Chanyeol suggests, turning to face the man, forcing back the gulp at the smile on his face.

This isn’t standard.

“Or be dead,” Mark Tuan nods assent, before glancing casually out into the empty road. “Which one do you think it is?”

The agents know stories about the others- Junmyeon memorises those profiles religiously, but some are passed by word of mouth, the more dramatic, the more likely it is that it’ll be spread. And everyone knows Mark’s story.

The details are a little flimsy, of course, but half the people who used to tell it either aren’t around to corroborate the facts anymore, or aren’t mentally capable of stringing sentences longer than a couple of words together now.

But the Academy should’ve changed that. Unit 7’s changed him- at least, that’s what everyone says.

“Are you here for something?” Chanyeol says it a little louder, as if that’ll drown out his convoluted train of thought, hands still tucked in his coat pockets. _It’s okay_ , he tells himself firmly, _as long as you stick to your side of the protocol, there’s nothing he can do to hurt you._ “If you were on an assignment you wouldn’t have time to stick around and talk.”

Mark doesn’t look at him for a while, before sighing, taking a hand out of a pocket to check his watch again. Chanyeol’s ashamed to admit he takes the bait, glancing over warily, stomach turning to ice at the coppery smudges on his pale skin, the smell of iron clinging in feeble strains to the air, like evidence and a guarantee of death at the same time.

_This isn’t normal. They don’t operate like this._

“Why don’t you tell me?” Mark smiles, then, voice encouraging. “What _am_ I here for?”

“I don’t have to listen to this,” Chanyeol stands, bristling- mind games aren’t his thing, not like they are for Kyungsoo and Xiumin.

“Didn’t _have_ to shoot Jackson either.”

There’s a petrified silence throughout Chanyeol’s entire brain as he turns back to face Mark. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“ _Hey_ , don’t fuck with me now, Park Chanyeol,” Mark says casually, absently thumbing away a dark smudge on his watch, his posture the picture of relaxation. “This would just be a lot easier if you owned up.”

“Well it would be a lot easier if I actually knew what it was you were accusing me of,” Chanyeol sticks to his story. _Don’t slip up. You never did anything wrong. You’re saf-…_

“How’s this,” Mark turns to face him properly, and Chanyeol almost _, almost_ , jumps. “You were issued poisoned bullets, breached code of conduct to take on a job directly clashing with Jackson’s one, _shot him_ , then left him for dead,” he rests a hand lazily on his knee- a bronze knuckleduster glints softly in the dim lamplight. “And now, you don’t want to admit it.”

“I didn’t do _anything_ ,” Chanyeol says, agitation working into his tone despite the voice that sounds a lot like Junmyeon’s at the back of his mind, _don’t slip up, don’t give them a reason, don’t-…_

“The poison that coated the bullets,” Mark slices calmly through his train of thought. “I want to know what it is and where the antidote can be found.”

“I’m leaving, I don’t have to listen to any of this,” Chanyeol says abrasively, standing to go- _he’s going to follow protocol, and protocol says he can’t hurt me. Protocol says he can’t-…_

Mark moves faster than he can compensate for- Chanyeol barely manages to dodge, the metal grazing his crown, leaving him stunned. The other man doesn’t make the mistake of stopping to catch his breath- he throws hit after hit, all with an accuracy that would be deadly if Chanyeol hadn’t moved out of the way a split second before he did.

_Unless he’s not following protocol._

He spins off the bench, body wound like a spring, head pounding from the first blow, but Mark doesn’t miss a beat, blocking off his attempt to run with no hesitation, moving to kill.

This is abnormal. Unnatural.

“Unsanctioned,” the word drips with cool venom, making Chanyeol’s stomach turn to ice, as he barely manages to miss a blow aiming for his throat. “Surprised? Thought that if you fucked with us, we wouldn’t fight back?” Mark’s eyes are on fire, that’s the only way he can describe it- burning and bitter, the same way he’s smiling. “You’re right,” his breathing’s barely been compromised, words still prowling with that same quiet tread they tell stories about. He finally lands a blow, catching Chanyeol on the shoulder, hand curling back to slam him, headfirst, into the rusted metal poles of the taxi stand, pitching him back into the bushes.

Chanyeol’s head _splits_ from the pain, stars flying, and he rolls over, body screaming at him to _run_ , but Mark pins him down, sending another fist into the side of his head.

“Except it’s not _us_ this time,” Chanyeol’s vision fades into black, then white, pain pounding through his skull. “It’s just me,” Mark says, with a detached tone of finality. “And I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“You’re _crazy_!” Chanyeol chokes, body jerking in an attempt to pitch him off, but Mark’s hand curls around his throat, and immediately, his eyes start to water.

“There’s a poison you shot him with. I want to know what it is and where the antidote is,” The other man says, voice quiet and the sanest Chanyeol’s heard all night.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!” Chanyeol says thickly, through the blood that’s beginning to drip from his nose. “There was no poison, you’re fucking insane!”

“Trust me, you piece of shit, it doesn’t take _sane_ to know that if you _don’t_ tell me where the antidote is, you’re sure as fuck going to die,” Mark snarls. “And if you _don’t_ tell me where it is, I’m going make sure you go limbless and buried alive somewhere no one can hear you under the bodies of the rest of your team. So _tell me_ ,” he twists Chanyeol’s neck painfully, so the tendons are straining under the skin. “Where it is.”

“I don’t know!” Chanyeol wheezes, blinking tears out of his eyes. “I shot him, but there was no poison, I swear! It was a regular .45!”

“Why’d you shoot?” Mark hisses, pulling harder, this close to snapping his neck. “Thought you’d be able to get away with breaking the treaty? Thought your company would save you?”

“I didn’t know it was him!” Blood splatters from Chanyeol’s lips and nose, speckling the pale skin of Mark’s face. “I swear, they gave me the job to stand guard and I took it, that’s all!”

“Outside of contract?” Mark cuts through. “That’s why both of you didn’t know?”

Chanyeol doesn’t say a word, knowing he’s just broken Junmyeon’s number one rule.

“I’m going to summarise,” Mark’s voice is deceptively calm. “You took a guard job that your company didn’t know about. Someone got in. You shot them, but the bullets weren’t poisoned. They got away.”

The other man nods once, after hesitating, knowing the weight of this admission. “That’s it, I swear.”

There’s a tense, wound pause after that, crackling with tension. Then-…

“You don’t have to swear,” Someone’s voice crackles over a speaker. “We’re not the ones going to be in trouble if SM ever hears one of their employees was moonlighting.”

The man on the ground lets out a haggard breath, eyes wide with realisation as Mark gets up.

He doesn’t need his hands around Chanyeol’s throat to threaten him anymore.

The redhead slides the .45 from Chanyeol’s holster, tucking it into his own belt, before dusting himself off nonchalantly, twisting the near invisible collar mic closer. “You got all that?”

“Recorded, crystal clear. Report back,” The same voice says, and Chanyeol bites down the pain as he rolls over, head pounding.

“You’re not going to tell them,” he rasps, blood spattering onto the grass.

“I won’t have to, if you don’t,” Mark replies, without turning around, as he walks off, hands in his pockets, like nothing had ever happened. “No hard feelings. Like I said,” he pauses to inhale a little here, as if to steady his voice. “This would’ve been a lot easier if you’d just owned up in the first place.”

Chanyeol’s left sprawled on the pavement, breathing harsh and eyes wide.

*

Mark holds it together for the three corners he turns and the street he crosses, hands in his pockets, hood pulled low over his head, before he turns into an alley.

Someone pounces, dragging him into a hug immediately, and Mark cracks a weak smile at Youngjae, who’s staring at him anxiously. “So we got it?”

“Yeah, we got everything- it might not work in a legal battle, but I don’t think Chanyeol will wanna take the chance,” Yugyeom’s watching him carefully and trying not to show it, from a safe distance away. “SM’s never been happy about employees working outside of contract. He won’t say a thing.”

“What about you?” Youngjae’s still looking at Mark, eyes wide with concern. “You-…you’re okay, then?”

Mark shrugs, looking anywhere but up. “Yeah. When was I ever not.”

Jaebum clears his throat, and Youngjae steps aside automatically as the leader walks over, and Mark noticeably does not meet his eyes.

There’s a moment of quiet tension- Mark doesn’t look up, Jaebum doesn’t speak, and the leader’s the one to break the silence, as usual.

“Your freelancing days with Jackson are over,” he says quietly. “It’s all of us now. So stop thinking you have to handle it on your own. Not when you’ve got the five of us here. Understood?”

Mark nods once, eyes still on the ground. The rest of them wait a heartbeat more, before Bambam steps up and nudges him with his shoulder hopefully, before laughing in the way only Bambam can to defuse the tension.

Youngjae wraps him up in a hug again, beaming at Mark. “Thanks for listening to Jinyoung-hyung when he called.”

“Yeah, and thanks for burning my hand,” Bambam retorts, brandishing his palm, barely reddened now, and Mark rolls his eyes, giving the indignant boy a consolation pat.

“This doesn’t give us any leads, though,” Yugyeom says from his seat on a stack of old wooden crates, slightly dejected. “We still don’t know what the poison is, or where to find the antidote.”

“We’ve got the weapon, though,” Jaebum nods towards the gun on Mark’s hip. “The firm could’ve issued Chanyeol poisoned bullets without his knowledge- you never know what happens outside of contract. That was pretty sharp of you, by the way,” he turns to Youngjae. “Deducing that Chanyeol was moonlighting.”

“It wasn’t that hard, after I got more time to analyse how he reacted after the shooting,” Youngjae shrugs, flushing a little. “There’s no way a contract job would’ve had _both_ parties unaware of who else was in the building.”

“We’re getting this analysed, then?” Mark plucks the gun from his belt, dropping it into the ziplock bag Yugyeom had just handed him. “Shouldn’t we be heading back to Daegu?”

Jaebum scoffs. “And wait three days for them to be done? You heard Jinyoung- by now, Jackson’s got about 48 hours left, there’s no time. Pack up,” he nods to Youngjae and Yugyeom, taking out his phone and grumbling something in a significantly lower tone.

“We’re heading for the Seoul base.”

*

One would imagine the Seoul base to be an upgraded version of the Daegu base, but upon actually visiting both bases, would realise that the Daegu base is nothing like the Seoul base.

It’s everything one would expect of the Academy, and the Daegu base is simply just _not_.

They’re technically not supposed to operate here unless given clearance, but Jaebum didn’t stock up on all those contacts with the higher ups for nothing. By hook or by crook, they’re going to get this gun analysed here, because waiting for the overworked lab assistants to get through it back at base would take too long.

Of course, if Jackson were here, he’d be the one in charge of breaking the ice, sweet-talking their way into getting access to the facilities and experts, but he’s not. And if they don’t finish this fast, he might not ever be again.

They disperse as per normal, before filing one by one into the narrow alleyway beside the company building, under the PARK CONSTRUCTION AND WORKS LTD signboard. Jaebum counts the bricks at the back of his mind, until he smoothly turns, walking straight into the wall and out the other side of the holographic wall, steeling himself for what’s to come.

He’s never quite liked the long, narrow corridor that follows, pitch black with darkness so it feels like you’re walking into a void. The walls are cold if you happen to brush into them, and emit soft hisses, and the floor sinks in a little with every step, like it’s threatening to swallow you alive. Sharp, almost invisible lights flash out across the space, scanning him as he walks through, and Jaebum swallows, shaking any irrational fears out of his head.

As confidently as he can, he reaches the end, noting that he hasn’t been shot with any incapacitating darts yet, and it seems to take forever, as he waits, for the door to unlatch with a smooth _click_.

Jaebum steps out, gulping down a deep breath of normal-tasting air. Small spaces don’t do him well.

Mark’s already out next to him, Youngjae on his other side, and Yugyeom’s opening his door three spaces away, slightly pale.

“Jae, you got any old friends you kept in contact with down at the labs?” the leader says, loud enough so his voice doesn’t crack, dragging their attention back to the matter at hand, as Bambam steps into the room.

“Sure,” Youngjae says, pulling out his phone, before grinning like a Cheshire cat, then, all of a sudden, looking over at Yugyeom. “But I’m pretty sure Gyeom has a _sure winner_.”

Yugyeom looks confused for a moment, still recovering from the corridor, before he groans.

“No, I _don’t_ ,” he mumbles. The group converges automatically after Jaebum, as he steps up to the only opening in the room other than the many doors behind them- a glowing blue rectangular-shaped depression in the wall, opposite the doors. The leader grudgingly sticks his fist into the opening, and the rest follow suit, Yugyeom still frowning tiredly at Youngjae.

With another slick _hiss_ , bright blue bands tattoo themselves around their wrists, each with their name, unit and designation.

“You know I couldn’t believe Daegu base gave its visitors _wristbands_ when I first went over,” Youngjae says, sounding a little disgusted, as the blue rectangle shapeshifts, the light perimeter expanding into a proper door, and a handle glows where the original rectangle used to be. “Standards.”

“Wait, you didn’t say who,” Bambam squints as they exit the room into a bustling, glowing atrium, Jaebum tapping out messages to a couple of contacts on his phone. The staff they pass by pay them no attention- everyone’s rushing from one place to another, talking into radios or with each other.

“Well, they haven’t spoken in a couple years or so but I doubt she’s ever forgetting _him_ ,” Youngjae sniggers, though Yugyeom’s turning steadily redder with every word.

“If you know her just contact her already,” Mark mutters, looking slightly uncomfortable about being in the Seoul building, hands shoved into his pockets. He almost jumps as an unmanned hover-trolley skims by, grazing his calves and beeping angrily at him for being in its way.

“Yeah, she’ll probably be able to get us access to the labs,” Youngjae carries on seamlessly. “That is, if you ask _nicely_ , like you did all those years back-…”

“Stop it, _damnnit_ ,” Yugyeom snaps. “Look, she probably doesn’t even remember me.”

“Who’s _she_?” Bambam demands. “Gyeom, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this.”

“It’s not something he’s particularly proud of,” Youngjae informs gravely, while Yugyeom determinedly avoids everyone’s eyes. “The gist of it is, during your basic field training, when you all were rookies and I wasn’t yet unfortunately fated to be with you, he asked-…”

“Hey…?”

Jaebum looks up, and has to hold himself back from letting out too loud a relieved sigh.

“Yerin, thank goodness,” he points back to the rest of them as he steps up to the girl, now looking a little confused, vaguely aware that Youngjae’s trying not to laugh, Mark looks uncomfortable as hell, Bambam’s glancing around suspiciously and Yugyeom’s trying to disintegrate into the floor. “We need your help.”

“Uh, sure,” Yerin throws a sideways glance at a passing senior, before gesturing quickly for them to follow. “You guys know you’re not supposed to be here.”

“Yeah, yeah we know, but it’s serious this time,” Jaebum says.

“It’s about Jackson,” Mark finally speaks up, a little on edge, and Yerin looks a little taken aback.

“What happened?”

“He got taken down by another agent a couple days back. Poison,” Jaebum lifts the baggie with the gun subtly from his bag. “We just got the weapon- we need to find out what poison it was on the bullet.”

Yerin studies the bag for a moment, before sighing and nodding towards the end of the corridor, where the service stairs are. “It shouldn’t take long. C’mon, it’s this way down to Toxicology,” they file past, disappearing down the relatively empty corridor.

After a few moments, though, Jaebum sees Yerin slow down, falling behind a little, and hears a quiet: “hey Yugyeom.”

Yugyeom clears his throat, but his voice stills cracks anyway. “H-hey Yerin.”

There’s the sound of Bambam crashing into something, probably a potted plant, and Youngjae sniggering around his knuckles, and Jaebum makes a small exasperated noise through one nostril.

This is going to be one long visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter pacing's getting a little weird due to poor planning and running out of luck on my part sobs, im sorry abt how long this took to go up. thank you for all your comments so far, they really give me strength to continue writing! hope you all like it, comments will be well and truly appreciated! ^.^
> 
> (also if any singapore ahgases are going for the concert today ;) see you outside hehe!)


	6. 005.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (im sorry if yall need to double back a couple of chapters to refresh your memory on what's happening because i jump right in OTL)

The labs in the Seoul base are a wonder.

Youngjae instantly dissociates from the group in wide-eyed awe to wander around the cavernous room, rediscovering the place he’d so reluctantly left all those years ago, drooling over various pieces of tech as Yerin directs the rest of them to Toxicology. Fluorescent lamps cast a soft blue-white glow over white and steel, and people in gray outfits drift importantly from one bench to another, typing out messages on light panels and muttering indistinct messages into headsets, holographs floating on top of the tables.

The glass floor ripples in little white circles under their feet, and Jaebum almost trips as Yerin pulls up a light display panel from the floor that follows them as they walk, tapping in various commands.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Bambam discreetly attempt to do the same, and almost flip a tray of microbots into oblivion. A scientist gives him the stink-eye.

People greet Yerin as she walks by, and Jaebum spots Youngjae already having some sort of group nerdgasm at the back with a couple of people he doesn’t recognise, but the rest of them are mostly avoided or at the very best, given curious stares.

It reminds Jaebum of a time he walked a long, quiet aisle by himself, the black bead stare of hundreds of eyes on him, while he stood in a stiff shirt and collar, jaw set and clamping down on the fear threatening to back up in his throat, six new burdens on his deceptively steady shoulders. Going without saying, not a very nice feeling.

They’re directed them into a room, sectioned off by glassy display screens, and someone looks up, about to say something.

“Hey unnie, I found the irregularity you were talking…about…” Chaeyoung blinks, staring over as the rest of Unit 7 trails uncomfortably in behind Yerin, sans Youngjae. “Uhm,” she taps the pipette holder nervously against the glass cylinder. “Is this another test?”

“Leave the venom reports, let’s work on this now,” Yerin puts the bag on what seems to be some sort of roller cart, except it spews light and numbers and diagnostics once the gun touches the white surface. Chaeyoung’s eyes widen as Yerin turns to the rest of Unit 7. “This is Son Chaeyoung- she’s understudying me for the time being. She’s under-…”

“Jihyo, right?” Jaebum frowns a little, a bell ringing in his head. “Tzuyu’s at the Daegu base, understudying the medics there too.”

It reminds him, he hasn’t called Jinyoung to check on Jackson’s status in a while. He makes a mental note to do it after the proceedings with the gun are done.

“Yeah, Momo, Mina and Sana are having field training at the Osaka base,” Chaeyoung pipes up, pulling on a pair of gloves of her own and watching warily as Yerin takes the gun out of the bag, taking it apart effortlessly. “Dahyun’s with Tzuyu, and the rest of us are here.”

The next female unit’s Formalisation would be coming up soon, it occurs to Jaebum. They would be known as Unit 9 officially then, taking Unit 7’s place as JYP’s rookies, and while the thought of sharing the burden of shitty assignments with another team is relieving, the feeling of being seniors to another group isn’t.

“You said the poison was found on the bullet, right?” Yerin presses a couple of buttons on the side of another machine, before a funnel of light pours out, and she places one of the bullets she’d taken from the gun in the light. “What happened, exactly?”

Jaebum wearily condenses the past two days’ events, deliberately glossing over the previous night, because trust Yerin and Chaeyoung as they may, it would probably raise too many questions he does not have the time and the energy to answer right now.

“So you’re saying the poison was introduced at the site itself,” Yerin’s correcting words that are transcribing themselves into her notes, frowning a little as she highlights something. “And it started taking effect about a day later? You need to fill up a report, by the way, especially if another agent was involved in this- legal department’s going to be all up on this.”

“Yeah,” Jaebum’s thinking about something, now, frowning as he glances distractedly to the multi-purpose printer Yerin had pointed to. “Yeah, okay.”

“Oppa, you said-…” Chaeyoung pipes up suddenly, then falters, as everyone in the room turns to look at her. Waves of defensive, cool fearlessness are rolling off her skin, like it does when she feels threatened, and Jaebum forces himself to school his expression into something kinder- not having both Jinyoung and Jackson around is taking a bigger toll on him than he’d thought. Maybe he should’ve asked Jinyoung to come along, he thinks feverishly. “You said a day, right? Isn’t it-…I don’t know, isn’t it weird that the poison would take a day to take effect, especially if it was issued by the company for a guard job? They’d want a quick temporary paralysis toxin, so they can catch the trespasser before they get away, right?”

“Yeah,” Jaebum inhales, eyes squeezing shut for a moment- had they missed something? “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. It doesn’t add up- plus,” he hesitates, thinking about the desperation he’d heard in Chanyeol’s voice when he said he didn’t know anything about a poison. That guy wasn’t the brightest bulb, but he definitely wasn’t dumb enough to accept bullets without doing his own quick analysis of them first. “The agent denied knowledge about the poison, and the more I think about it, the more I feel like he honestly didn’t know, and it doesn’t make sense that he wouldn’t.”

Yerin opens her mouth, about to say something, when the machine haloing the bullet in blue light beeps softly, a green light blinking. She frowns, picking up the bullet with gloved fingers.

“Green,” she says contemplatively. “Means it’s clean.”

Jaebum hears Mark sigh in frustration from behind him, and knows why- it means they’re back to square one, no leads on the poison, meaning no leads on the antidote. But still, he thinks, something’s amiss, something lying right before their eyes that none of them have noticed.

“You have samples of Jackson’s blood? The low concentration will make the poison difficult to trace, but it’s worth a try,” Yerin says, taking out a fresh baggie to put the gun in.

“Yeah, Bam, give her the samples we brought over,” Jaebum’s facing the wall, now, thinking hard about the mission. “Where’s Jae?”

“Here! Sorry, was looking at some new hardware,” Youngjae walks in, already donning some sort of weird glowing glasses- Jaebum feels a slight pang, seeing how happy the younger boy is here, like a fish back in water, but something’s been nagging at the back of his head ever since their guess about the bullet had been confirmed.

“Could you pull up Jackson’s mission brief for me?” he says, arms folded across his chest, brow furrowed in thought. “What did they ask him to get?”

“Hyung…the stuff the client requests,” Youngjae hesitates. “They usually don’t make sense, right? They usually just exhaust the checklist to make sure they get the most of us,” he’s barely looking as he pulls up a holographic display panel the same way Yerin had, pressing various buttons until he literally pulls a document from an encrypted folder, scrolling quickly through it and flipping it so the rest of them can see.

“Yeah,” Jaebum’s not really listening, scanning the list- confirming his suspicions, the list is shorter, like the client _knew_ what they were looking for, what they wanted.

It’s Chaeyoung who spots it first. “Biological and chemical warfare,” she lists, right next to _sabotage_ and _human trafficking_ , voice trailing off slightly as Mark frowns.

“I don’t get it,” he says. “What does this have to do with Jackson?”

Jaebum’s mouth is dry, and it gets worse as someone hurries in, barely noticing the rest of them.

“Sorry Yerin, Chaeng, I need you to get me a line to Dahyun…” Nayeon trails off after she’s taken her first few steps in. “Jaebum oppa? What are you guys doing here?”

“What’s happening,” Jaebum says, voice surprisingly steady. “What’s up with Dahyun?”

“Uh, I don’t know, all I know is that the Daegu med facility just went into lockdown, and I haven’t been able to contact Tzuyu,” Nayeon trails off slightly, voice going lower, eyes narrowing. “Why are you all here instead of there?”

Jaebum’s finding it increasingly difficult to breathe- he’s got his phone out, tapping in a number, fingers shaking, and it’s only when Youngjae says his name for the third time that he looks over, recognising the soft pulsation of the comm line being established.

It’s the owner of that number on the holographic screen that flashes from Youngjae’s display panel, and while the cool blue hue of the graphics mask the paleness of his face well enough, it can’t hide the sunken look in his eyes, or the chapped lips.

“Jae?”

“Jinyoung hyung?” Youngjae’s eyes are wide with worry, the tremor in his voice barely betraying the shock. “Hyung what-…are you okay?”

“What’s up with the lockdown?” Nayeon’s rounded the rest of them to look at the screen too, trying to hide the anxiety in her voice. “Is Tzuyu okay?”

“The poison tests won’t work,” Jinyoung says, then, and even over the crystal audio quality, his voice is rough and hoarse. “With the blood or the bullets. Because it’s not a poison.”

Jaebum’s heart sinks to his stomach, worst fears confirmed. He doesn’t have to look at the bright red _QUARANTINE_ sign in the background as Jinyoung shifts on the screen, laboured breathing rustling through the mic, or outline of a girl, apparently sleeping, on a bed at the back, to finish that sentence.

“It’s a virus,” he half-whispers, taking an involuntary step closer.

Jinyoung coughs once, twice, raising something white but obviously speckled with red hastily to hastily wipe his lips and nose.

The room is silent- it seems like everyone knows the gravity to that statement, and it hangs over them like a ticking time bomb, about to go off at any moment.

“No, no that doesn’t make sense,” Yugyeom’s shaking his head, coming over to the screen as well, eyes wide as he stares at Jinyoung. “Wouldn’t we all have been infected, then? We all were with you in the med bay that time.”

“Only for a while,” Jinyoung rasps, taking a breath with some difficulty, and Jaebum’s chest clenches painfully. “The virus is airborne but was weakened, deliberately, I think, in a laboratory setting, to damage its potency. It couldn’t affect anyone without prolonged exposure, but once it sticks- Jackson’s body can’t cope because his immune system’s never seen something like this before. The antigenic shift they were experimenting with must’ve been something.”

“The bullet wound,” Bambam’s eyes widen. “Jackson must’ve accidentally brushed against something when he was running around in the dark, which means he probably broke into one of their labs without knowing it when he was running away.”

“This is research that hasn’t been officially declared,” Youngjae’s pulling up a company profile, flashing it beside Jinyoung’s screen. “This is a medical research facility- they have _no place_ doing research on biological warfare.”

“That’s what the client was sending Jackson after,” Yugyeom says. “Illegal research. Something like this could sink the entire company.”

“If the virus is there,” Youngjae says urgently, turning to look at the rest of them. “There’s a high chance the antivirus will be too.”

“Well, then we need to go, don’t we?” Chaeyoung says anxiously, already turning around, lifting her radio, probably about to call Jihyo.

“Wait, _you’re_ not going,” Mark interrupts.

“I don’t think that’s for you to decide,” Nayeon replies icily.

“Guys,” Yerin cuts in, distracting them all with the clean _click_ of the gun being reassembled in her hands, expression dismissive.

The glass door slides close with a clean, calm _whir_ , as everyone looks to the empty space behind the now empty holographic screen.

“Someone might want to go get him,” Yerin says, voice steely. “And then we might actually want to start discussing something that’ll work.”

*

“When?”

There’s a long pause over the phone- even the ragged breaths stop for a while.

“When did you know?” Jaebum repeats dully. The air-conditioning of the training room sends weak, cold breezes down his neck, that smell of cheap air freshener and rubber floor mats.

“...a couple of hours ago.”

“That’s not true,” He has to tell himself not to shout, because it doesn’t solve anything, it won’t help the situation right now. “You put the med bay in lockdown. You would’ve recognised the symptoms ages ago if they’re this serious now, and even earlier for Tzuyu. When did you know.”

There’s a couple of coughs, and another silence. “Last night.”

Jaebum lowers the phone, takes a deep breath, blinking once, twice, before letting out a slow, controlled exhale. Breathing’s always helped, it’s something- _fuck_ , it’s something Jinyoung had taught him, back when they were kids, before the Academy even meant anything to them.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” it comes out a little harsher than Jaebum would’ve liked, but the amount of restraint he’s already having to exercise is cutting into him. “Why didn’t you tell any of us.”

“It would’ve meant a couple more hours without the med bay going into quarantine, and without Tzuyu’s condition being stabilised. That could be any number of people getting infected,” Jinyoung replies evenly.

“ _Fuck_ , Jinyoung,” Jaebum finally snaps, voice cracking like a whip- he knows Jinyoung won’t even flinch, though, he’s too used to it. “You should’ve _told_ us, we could’ve _done_ something-…”

“There wasn’t anything you could’ve done,” the other man’s voice is patient, disturbingly reassuring for someone who knows they might be dying within the week. “What we need to do now is focus on getting the-…”

“You could _die!_ ” Jaebum barks down, running his hand through a fistful of his hair roughly. “You could be gone fucking _tomorrow morning_ , Jinyoung, how the fuck am-…am I supposed to-…”

“Hey. _Hey_ ,” Jinyoung’s voice, weak and halting as it is, is like a salve, the way his presence is, like cool water over tender bruises. “I’m not going to die, hyung. Are you listening?”

There’s blood pounding through Jaebum’s head, roaring in his ears, and with the next breath that leaves his lungs he realises he’s crouched on the cracked vinyl floor, head in his hands, eyes wide. For a moment it’s like he’s eighteen again, waiting alone in a musty room with cracked windows at four in the morning, hunched in front of a paraffin stove to keep his hands warm while his mind freezes over with fear.

There’s nothing that he can do about this- nothing he can do stuck hundreds of kilometres away, and despite the wide expanse of the training room, he feels suffocated.

“Hyung?”

Jaebum inhales, exhales, breaths trembling in his lungs. “Yeah.”

“I’m not going to die.”

Jinyoung lets that hang between them for a moment- Jaebum leans over, phone held slack in his hand.

“None of us are going to die- Jackson, or Tzuyu either,” Jinyoung says firmly, stifling a cough. “You guys are going to get the antivirus, we’re going to finish the assignment, and by next week this will all be behind us.”

Jaebum rubs the heel of his palm against his eyes, takes a deep breath, blinking rapidly, trying to gather himself. “Okay. Okay.”

There’s a pause, a moment of quiet as Jaebum tries and fails to block out the sound of Jinyoung muffling his coughs into a tissue.

“Hey,” the breathlessness drags down the scaffolding of the makeshift support Jinyoung’s built in the structure of Jaebum’s mind. “Remember the shophouse?”

That quietens him. Jaebum closes his eyes, crumples against the cold white wall of the training room. “Yeah. What?”

 _What_ about it, about the days they’d survived together, about the jobs they always tried to persuade each other not to take though they were starving and freezing, about the wide-eyed nights Jaebum had spent waiting for Jinyoung’s stakeouts to be over, about the slash wounds on Jaebum’s back that Jinyoung’d cried over when he was trying to patch up.

 _What_ about having to give all that freedom and all that pain up in exchange for what they have now.

“Remember how I used to be afraid of the dark,” the other man musters the energy to laugh. “I was sixteen- you wouldn’t stop laughing at me.”

Jaebum lets out a mirthless, tired chuckle. “Yeah.”

“What is it you used to tell me? The nights you went out on your own- when I said I was scared you’d never come back?”

His throat is dry, tongue heavy as something echoes in the back of his head. It doesn’t take him long to remember. “You have to go to sleep,” Jaebum clears his throat. “Because I’ll only be back when you wake up, and you’ll see-…” his voice catches in his throat for a moment. “You’ll see everything turned out okay.”

“Yeah,” Jinyoung says, voice on the cusp of wistfulness, clinging to the edge of lucidity. “Yeah.”

There’s a _what if you never wake up_ bursting from the tip of his tongue, _what if it doesn’t turn out okay_ , but this is now, this is them, and Jaebum needs to be the one telling Jinyoung it’ll be okay, just like the way it was.

“Okay,” the leader swallows hard, stands unsteadily, skin prickling in the artificial cold. “Okay. I’m heading down now. We’re going to-…going to plan the infiltration. We’re going to get the antivirus, we’ll be back for you, Jackson- we’ll get Dahyun to hold the fort at Daegu too. Just-…just hang on.”

“Yeah?” Jinyoung says, a hint of pride in the breathy rasp of his voice. “I thought so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /crawls in wheezing
> 
> this isn't dead guys
> 
> same might not apply for my body rn :"")
> 
> (comments and kudos will revitalise said body and push it into writing more fic :D) also i've never done this before haha but uhm hmu with fic recs if yall want to? ;A; or you can tweet them hehe @goldengyeom, hoping to find some good fic gems! :")
> 
> ily guys /huggles/ stay healthy and eat corn. it's good for digestion c:


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